From the Diaries of a Daywalker
by The Girl in the Black Tutu
Summary: Cartman says it's because I'm Jewish.
1. October: Where Art Thou Car Alarm?

OCTOBER 

It was my birthday yesterday. And because my parents are two cheapskate Jews, I ended up with one of those crappy spiral notebooks. You know the ones that you get at the dollar store? Where you put the gay stickers on them and when you decide they look stupid the covers rips off along with the stickers? Yeah, well, they got me one. And Ike, being such a wonderful little bastard of a brother, scribbled "KYLE EATS FARTS" on the inside.

So I'm writing in this to score points with the Obese Nagging Mother. I don't have to do the laundry as long as I write in this at least three times a week. Believe me, I have much better things to do with my time than this, but OK. I'm stuck. So to make it look like a wrote something in this, I'm going to proceed to fill up the rest of the page with writings of the utmost importance.

My name is Kyle. I think my last name makes me sound a block of cheese. I wish that my brother will one day get eaten by angry dolphins. I think dentists are really evil beasts who want to eat you. I have six Playboys stashed under my mattress. I hate writing. A lot. I especially hate writing in this journal. My hat is green. Green is the color of trees. Trees are used to make paper. Paper is in the journal. I really, really hate writing. Did I say that already?

OK, wow. That filled up the whole of six lines. Dammit. Well, since I have nothing I'd like to do more in the whole entire world than write in this gay little notebook, I will commence to explain how well my day went.

I woke up at 4:21 because the car alarm went off. It wasn't even our damn car, it was my neighbor's. The stupid fucking Nissan started bleeping, and I woke up a pissed little Jew. So I got dressed, stuffed my hat on my retarded "daywalker" afro, and made my way downstairs. Ninth grade sucks ass. I have to get up at about 5 A.M. every fucking day anyway, so it isn't much wasted time. The bus was set to come in an hour and forty-or-so minutes, so I groggily stumbled down the stairs and poured myself a bowl of cereal.

Now, because I'm a paranoid freak of nature, I kept looking behind me. I always get this feeling that somebody is watching me. I have no idea why. It's not like I'm the plot of some fucking idiot's story or something, and the author is spying on me while I sleep. I just...I don't know. I feel funny at night.

So I heard this rustling behind me, and I turned around. All I saw was a wall. A few minutes went by, and another rustling was heard. I turned around again. Nothing. I was starting to get freaked out. The third time the rustling began, I whirled around and shouted, "AHAH!" I scared the living shit out of poor Kenny.

It turned out he was just "passing by" (he was probably just seeing if our neighbor's daughter's blinds were closed), and he saw a light on in the kitchen of my house. He let himself in and there he was, scavenging around for some food. He sat across from me in silence. It felt awkward so I gave him a piece of toast. We chewed quietly, and then watched a Jackass marathon until we walked to the bus stop together.

We met with Stan and Cartman. It was too early to strike up conversation, so the bus came. School was the same as usual...until lunch, when Cartman farted. I know it sounds kind of stupid, making a big deal out of a fart, but I still said, ⌠Ew, gross!■ Kenny and Stan rolled their eyes. It was quiet again until another poof from Cartman was heard. This time it smelled like gasoline and dead fish, so Kenny wrinkled his nose and waved his hand in front of him, mock-blowing away the smell. Stan and I laughed while Cartman growled. He picked up my sandwich (obviously not wanting to waste any of his own precious food) and chucked it at Kenny. It hit him square in the face, and, startled by the blow, Kenny fell backwards off the bench on to the hard concrete of the courtyard. A crunch could be heard and a stream of blood shot up into the air.

"Oh my God, you killed Kenny!" Stan shouted melodramatically. I added, traditionally, "You bastard!" And then I got detention for saying the word "bastard" in school. I mean, please. I said "shit" in fourth grade and nobody had a problem with it then. Hell, everybody else is free to let profanities spill from their mouths any other time, but me, no way, I obviously can't.

Cartman says it's because I'm Jewish.


	2. October: Mommy's on her Period

October 5

The Obese Nagging Mother is on her period. All must run, fast.

I swear to God, when a Jewish mother with frizzy red hair is having PMS, the apocalypse is surely near. This morning I woke up when my alarm went off. I rolled over to press the "snooze" button. I fell back asleep for about two minutes before I heard a door burst open and a felt a smack on my butt. Then a nasally voice radiated off the walls:

"Kyle! What are you doing? You have school in an hour! Get up, now, or it's extra chores for a month! Blah blah blah, yell yell yell, Don't be such a zayin, roar, bellow, shout, scream, screech." Just when I was contemplating the affects of "accidental" suicide, the voice stopped its ranting, a hand gave my ass another firm smack, and a door slammed.

My mother hits hard. I opened my eyes and rubbed them. I almost spontaneously combusted when I saw that my alarm clock was on the floor, smashed into a billion pieces. Surely my mother, the one I (supposedly) love so much, did not do this? She loved my alarm clock! It was in the shape of Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo and sang songs. I saved up my allowance for a month! I growled. In short, I was pissed.

I got up and changed hastily into my clothing. How dare she? My entire family, even Ike, my beastly monster of a brother, enjoyed its cheerful melodies in the morning! And my mother, my own fucking mother ruined it. I was so caught up in my thought that I didn't notice the sharp, pointy fragments on the floor, and screamed like I just got shot in the eye. Fuck that hurt! I bit my lip and inspected the damage to the bottom of my foot. A slice about the size of my thumb was gouged into it. I winced as I plucked the bloody metal fragment out.

And then rage overtook me. I let out an earsplitting roar. I gathered up every single piece, chucked open my window, and dumped them out. I sighed contentedly. I felt much better. That was, until I heard the earsplitting screech of Kenny, who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. No wonder he always died. His bad luck rate was unusually high.

I paused, awaiting what was obviously next. In the distance I heard a bloodcurdling scream. "OH MY GOD, YOU KILLED KENNY!" Jesus, how does Stan do that? I sighed and sat down in the desk chair. I thought some more.

"Yep, I'm a bastard." 


	3. October: Wendy Breaks Up

October 7

6:41 P.M.

I'm in a really, really, really bad mood. That's only because Stan is in a really, really, really bad mood as well. I'm almost positive that we share a brain. I have absolutely no idea why Stan is so pissed off, but I think it has something to do with Wendy. They've been going out forever, and today they just...ignored each other.

I was freaked out, I have to admit. I mean, I knew something was wrong when he "accidentally" pushed Bebe onto the bunson burner. I know Stan hates her guts, but seriously, he didn't have to be so outright about it! I just...I knew that something was off.

So I'm going to ask Wendy. I know what you're thinking; "Why doesn't he just ask Stan?" but because I want, for once, somebody else's opinion. It's always what Stan thinks, like I don't care about the rest of the world. So I'm going to call her up.

6:56 P.M.

Does that girl ever stop talking? Jesus, I thought my ears were going to cry! She was all about how "Stan never walks me home anymore" or how "Stan never puts his arm around me anymore" or "I don't think Stan is comfortable passing gas around me" or JESUS FUCKING CHRIST LADY, SHUT UP!

So to sum it up, Bebe told Stan that Wendy was pissed off at him, which evolved into this monstrosity we know today as "The Apocalypse." Nawh, just kidding. Well, it's pretty much the post-breakup of the century. This probably explains Stan's attitude towards Bebe...no wonder. Now I'm not exactly glad she's in the hospital with third degree burns, but I would probably had the urge to do that to somebody who A) has been pissing me off since third grade and B) is always the news carrier of gossip and breakups around the fucking school!

7:28 P.M.

Annie IMed Stan. Wendy breaks up.

Stan had an epiphany and is now in this everlasting depression. He won't come out of his room. And the worst part is that Wendy left him for somebody else. I know you think that guys don't have feelings and don't give a shit on a stick about breakups. Well, sometimes we don't. But when a girl leaves us for another guy, well...that changes everything.

I expect whoever the guy is to be dead tomorrow morning.

No joke.

7:29 P.M.

Stan won't eat. He won't drink, talk or even attempt at some range of normalcy. Well, he spoke once. It was only to say, "Whoever she likes is dead in the morning." See, I was right, wasn't I!

11:43 P.M.

I'm checking the obituaries tomorrow morning.

5:21 A.M.

Kenny's dead. Again. Who knew? Wendy asked him out and, Kenny, being the best friend ever, said yes. He doesn't give a shit if she just broke up with his good friend, he just went right along and tried to grope her ass. Well, cyber-grope her ass. Annie, who is now Stan's official enemy after delivering the terrible news to him, IMed him asking if he would go out with her. And apparently Kenny, with his unusual charm, persuaded Wendy into having cyber-sex with him.

That was the end of it. Stan wasn't even arrested, because the guy who came to check out the gruesome scene knew what it was like and let him off with a warning. Also, he knew about Kenny's little "death problem."

Now Stan and I can be bastards together. Woo hoo. 


End file.
